Back in Terrasen
by theoneandonlywriter
Summary: Set just after the end of Queen of Shadows. Rowan and Aedion train together for the upcoming war, but find it hard to control their Fae territoriality, driving Aelin up the wall. The title is a W.I.P. and this is my first fanfic, so don't hate me if it's bad! Feedback is greatly appreciated :)
1. Chapter 1

The white towers of Aelin Galathynius's castle gleamed in the light bounding over the horizon. Aedion watched as the sun slowly made its ascent, squinting against the bright light. It had been three weeks since they had made it to Terrasen, and he still couldn't get enough of the sunrise in Orynth. He'd seen it a thousand times before, but with the shadow of the King of Adarlan looming over him. Watching. Now, he was free of the wretch, and having Aelin back made him happier than he could remember being in a long, long time.

Lysandra had left for the former Allsbrook territory two days before, Evangeline travelling with her. Though he was loath to admit it, because he anticipated Aelin and Rowan's teasing, Aedion missed the shapeshifter. Not just her company, but her spontaneity, too. There was nothing like a huge ghost leopard bounding through the castle hallways to liven up the atmosphere. Or a chestnut horse giving Evangeline rides through the courtyard. Aelin missed Lysandra bitterly, too. The heir of Mala Light-Bringer, it seemed, was useless when it came to hiding her emotions. Even though Lysandra had promised to send word if anything of note happened, and Rowan had agreed to carry messages, if absolutely necessary, Aelin still worried. In a council meeting about a week before, during with they pored over maps and bemoaned the force of Ironteeth witches that were heading their way, the fire in the hearth had been so hot and so large that they had to open all the windows and even the door. Aelin tried to hide her anxiety, but it was pretty obvious when she was the only one who wasn't nearly collapsing from the suffocating heat. Rowan had sent the temperature in the room plummeting when it simply got too much, only to have it rocket back up again as the fire flared and several of the tapestries adorning the walls disintegrated into smoking ashes. The council meeting had, wisely, been called off.

A bird's cry echoed through the crisp morning air, and Aedion looked up. Sure enough, a familiar-looking white-tailed hawk was circling above him. Aedion grinned, and Rowan slowly glided down to land on Aedion's balcony. There was a flash of light and the Fae warrior, tattoo, hidden weapons and all, stood beside him.

"Won't Aelin go ballistic if she wakes up and finds you missing?" Aedion asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rowan smirked, "She's already up. Spitting fire everywhere."

There was a clearing in the huge game park that Rowan and Aelin often used for practise, as it offered more space than the barracks or gardens. Also, if something went very, very wrong, the castle was less likely to collapse. But they always practised for Aelin's benefit, as she had had one total burnout since their arrival.

"Are you sure...?" Aedion trailed off, not wanting to anger the warrior so early in the morning.

But Rowan just waved him off, "She never makes mistakes when she's in a bad mood." He looked Aedion over with a critical but not unkind eye, and said, "Are you ready for training yet?"

Aedion bit down a groan. He'd badgered and pestered and outright begged Rowan to train him as Fae trained, to learn how to move and pounce like an immortal. Eventually, Rowan had agreed. And gods, did he not tolerate mistakes. After less than a month, Aedion practically fell into bed every evening and visited the healer's wing for sore joints and muscles more times than he could count. He'd sparred with Aelin a few times, too, no magic allowed, while Rowan watched and offered constructive criticism. Lots of it. Aedion had begun to realise how Aelin mastered her magic so quickly under Rowan's teachings.

Sparring against his cousin was... a new experience. They'd fought several times with Aelin in her human form, and he had won. Just. But then, stupidly, he had asked for her to shift. Aelin had obliged, and thoroughly kicked his ass. When he had gotten up, she kicked his ass again. And again. Until, stabbing his pride, Aedion had to ask her to back off.

"Tired, Aedion?" She had teased, cracking her knuckles and grinning at him with those elongated canines.

"Blame Rowan." He had replied.

So then Rowan had kicked his ass. But afterward, he had said, "You fight well, considering you haven't been trained by someone of your kind since you were thirteen." Which Aedion supposed was a compliment.

But, apparently, lack of training didn't matter to Rowan, because he still kicked Aedion's ass. _Hard_.

It seemed that the Fae prince was thinking along the same lines, because he let out a low chuckle, "Aelin keeps reminding me I'm not allowed to kill you."

Aedion snorted, "You seem to forget that every session."

"Ah, but you should notice that I only _really_ lay into you when she's not around."

"You should try it when Aelin's watching. She would beat you to a pulp."

"We serve such a refined, gentle queen."

"Indeed, we do." A smile was tugging at the corner of Aedion's mouth, "You said Aelin was practising."

"Yes."

"Any idea for how long?"

Rowan caught his train of thought, and slowly grinned, "She'll be out there until she gets hungry."

"Which gives us quite a bit of time, I'd wager."

The Fae prince chuckled, "Meet me in the East garden in five minutes."

There was a flash of light, and a hawk soaring over the courtyard. But Aedion didn't see it. He was already bursting into his dressing room.

* * *

No magic. No weapons. No other rules.

Rowan and Aedion fought in the East garden, the smallest one, that was also the furthest away from the game park. Just in case Aelin heard them swearing at each other. Rowan had said that they needed to finish with enough time for him to heal all their injuries, so Aelin wouldn't suspect anything.

Forget Aelin, Aedion thought as he spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground. He was going to need Rowan's healing if he wanted to sit down in the next week.

They lunged at each other again and again, and though Rowan was faster and stronger, Aedion was beginning to figure him out. To learn his tells, what tricks he liked to pull and the speed with which he dealt his blows. But it wasn't quite enough to evade the swift kick that Rowan dealt to his knees, sending him tumbling into the gravel. He swore as Rowan dug his knees into his thighs, gripping both of Aedion's hands with one of his, and pressing the other against Aedion's throat.

"Give up yet?" Rowan panted, the tattoo on his face shifting as he grinned.

"You wish." Aedion lurched, but Rowan was an immovable force against him. He gave a roar of frustration as the prince pushed him down.

"Think, Aedion." He said, still grinning, those canines gleaming, "Use whatever weapons you've got."

"Shut up." He snarled, among other, less polite phrases. Aedion twisted his hands, digging his fingernails into Rowan's wrists. They stared at each other in silence for at least a minute, even after Rowan's blood started running down Aedion's fingers. But Rowan still wouldn't even _flinch_. He brought his face slightly closer to Aedion's, and said:

"You'll have to try harder-"

Before Aedion slammed his forehead into Rowan's nose.

Blood spurted. Aedion knew that it would hardly dent the warrior, but it would distract him for just one second. And one second was enough, for he threw his body upwards and to the side, j-u-s-t managing to tip Rowan's balance. They rolled across the garden path, kicking and punching and scratching and, in both of their cases, outright biting. Each of them only had a split second to use their upper hand, before they carried on tumbling over and over. It crossed Aedion's mind that this probably wasn't the best way to prepare for a battlefield.

It had apparently crossed Aelin's mind, too, because a ring of fire suddenly burst up around them and a figure stepped through the flames. Aedion raised his eyes.

He was staring into the very upside-down, very narrowed, very _angry_ eyes of his beloved cousin.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hey**_ _ **guys! Wow, thank you**_ **so much** _ **for all the follows and reviews! I really appreciate it XD Sorry, this chapter's a little short but I hope you like it anyway.**_

Oh, Aelin was pissed.

Aelin was _pissed._

Aedion waited for her to shout, or scream, or burn him and Rowan to ashes. But she just stood there, arms folded, eyes narrowed, tapping her foot as blood from Rowan's nose dripped onto Aedion's chin. Aedion felt the cuts on his knuckles knitting back together, his black eye diminishing, and made a mental note to thank Rowan once they got out of this mess.

But for now, he had to deal with a seriously pissy Aelin.

Gods above, he could see the air literally shimmering around her as her eyes blazed. Maybe staying silent was the safest option. Maybe she'd get bored and leave them alone.

Fat chance.

"Aelin," Rowan began tentatively, gently easing himself off of Aedion to sit on the gravel path. Aedion agreed; he didn't think standing was a very safe option, either.

"Yes, Rowan?" She said sweetly, cocking her head as the flames roared around them, searing Aedion's face with heat, "Would you care to explain _why_ you are brawling with my cousin in the small hours of the morning?" She flicked her gaze towards Aedion, "And vice-versa."

For once, Rowan seemed at a complete loss for words. He opened his mouth, and then shut it again. Aedion expected him to get up, but the warrior remained motionless as the stream of blood from his nose diminished to a slow trickle, and then vanished entirely.

Aelin regarded them for a few minutes more, and then the circle of flames winked out as she looked Aedion in the eye, "Hmph. At least you managed to land a proper blow."

With that, his queen stalked away.

* * *

Aedion and Rowan sat in the former's bedroom later that evening, neither of them daring to risk Aelin's company. She had been civil enough to them during lunch and dinner, but the roaring hearth fire had given away enough of her feelings. Aedion sat in an armchair, his legs draped over the side and his hands resting on his stomach. Rowan sat on the side of the bed.

"What is it," Aedion asked, stretching, "that makes her so angry when we properly spar with each other? She can't expect us to hold back all the time."

Rowan thought for a minute, "Don't forget, Aedion, that she's only had you back for a few months, and me for even less than that?"

"Surely she doesn't think we'll kill each other?"

"Of course not. But I doubt it's very fun for her when we make each other bleed."

Aedion huffed, "Sorry about your nose."

Rowan shrugged and smirked, "Don't be. You should get more creative with your fighting methods. And Aelin was right- you finally landed a proper blow."

"Don't toe the line, prince, or I'll land a great many more."

Rowan laughed at that, and then a silence fell between them. Not an uncomfortable one, just quiet. It lasted several minutes before Aedion spoke again.

"It's odd... to have someone care about me. I'm having some trouble adjusting."

"Your soldiers in the Bane didn't care about you?"

"Gods, I don't mean that. But we sparred too often and too violently for sympathy."

"I see."

Aedion sighed, looking at the ceiling, "Can I ask you something, Prince?"

"What?"

"What is it like to take a blood oath?"

Rowan looked at him, hard, and Aedion carefully avoided his gaze. It was a prying question, and one he shouldn't need to ask, but he wanted to. He couldn't explain why, but he did.

Eventually Rowan answered, "It feels strange when you first take it. Like a chain links you to the person. Of course, you can't see it. But you can feel it." He adjusted his seat a little, "When I swore my allegiance to Maeve, it didn't take me too long to regret it. She would tell me to do things, and there would be no way I could refuse. Like my tongue and my will had stopped working. Utter control. But Aelin doesn't abuse it like Maeve does. Only once, she commanded me to do something, using the bond."

Aedion nodded, "When she fought the witch." Yes, he remembered. Aelin roaring at Rowan to cross the bridge, and Rowan snarling and growling as he did, but not turning back. As if she'd compelled him.

"Yes, when she fought the witch."

Aedion waited for Rowan to go on, but it seemed that he'd finished. So he settled more comfortably in his armchair and thought about what it would be like to swear himself to Aelin. He hadn't changed his mind, not by a long shot. He still wanted it at her coronation, when this gods-damned war was over. When his queen no longer needed to fret and worry about the Valg and Erewan, he would take the oath. As was his right.

There was a hurried knocking at the door. Aedion dragged himself out of the chair and opened the door, rather surprised to find a flustered-looking servant girl standing there. "What is it?" He asked, puzzled.

The girl quickly bowed as Rowan joined Aedion in the doorway, "Her Majesty wishes you by the front gates. Immediately, she said. Or she'll come and drag you by the ears."

In standard Aelin fashion. "Why? What happened?"

"I don't know, General. But please, get there quickly. Her Majesty is very angry and said you had better get your hulking asses down as soon as possible."

"Lead the way."

The servant girl jogged down the corridor, Aedion and Rowan in tow. As they rounded the first corner, Rowan pressed two daggers into Aedion's hand. He accepted them with a silent nod of thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

_**800 views?! Thank you guys sooo much for taking the time to read my fanfic ;) As always, any kind of feedback, good or bad, is greatly appreciated.**_

* * *

The servant girl led them to the courtyard at the front of the palace, where Aelin was waiting, arms folded, tapping her foot irritably. The girl bade them farewell and strode off as Rowan and Aedion approached the young queen. She was dressed in plain brown travelling clothes, and the horse next to her was mounted with saddlebags.

"What is it?" Aedion asked. He didn't smell a trace of fear or anxiety- that was a good thing. Aelin was just... restless. Why?

She looked the two of them up and down, frowning slightly, before shaking her head and saying, "I need you two to run things while I'm gone."

Aedion opened his mouth, instantly full to bursting with a million questions, but she cut him off with a snarl, those elongated canines glinting in the evening light. He hadn't realised she was in her fae form, "Don't ask, because I won't tell you. Just because we have spies doesn't mean Perr- doesn't mean Erewan can't have them too."

She was right. But how could Aedion let her go to the gods-knew-where all by herself? He couldn't!

"Don't you trust our security?" He demanded, fighting to keep that anger bolted down. Rowan growled softly at him.

Aelin glared at the two of them, "Stop it. Both of you. This isn't some game of trust; we're preparing for war .So quit whining and start acting like the soldiers you are."

"At least tell us where you're going," Rowan said, slowly and evenly. Aedion braced himself- the warrior was just as bad as Aelin when it came to hiding his temper.

"Allsbrook," Aelin said curtly, "And no, I don't know for how long." She hoisted herself onto the horse, her thick-soled boots resting in the stirrups as she looked down on them. Aedion wondered if her intention was to make him feel small- if it was, then it was working. Something seemed to soften in Aelin's eyes as she beheld the ire rolling off the two males, "Rowan, Aedion, I'm sorry. But I don't want to risk telling you why I'm going. Also, I can't leave the castle completely defenseless while I'm gone. I need you here."

"Well, take me!" Aedion blustered, "Rowan's far more use when it comes to defense."

The words stabbed his pride, but there. He'd said it. The thing that made him feel like no more than a boy, rather than the feared Wolf of the North. Made him feel like a footsoldier, not a General.

Aelin's face darkened, "So help me, Aedion Ashryver, if those words leave your mouth again then I will beat you into next week." She said with dangerous calm, "You're one of the most feared people in Adarlan, you worked to help my people for eleven years and you kept my father's sword safe since he died. The war effort would have died with my parents eleven years ago, if it weren't for you." She raised her chin, "Rowan, try to knock some sense into him next time. Please."

"Don't go alone, Aelin," Rowan pleaded. Aedion nearly gasped; he'd never heard the warrior beg before.

"I have to," Aelin replied, with equal softness, "I'll send you a letter via Lysandra as soon as I can. Read it, then burn it."

There were a few seconds of sullen silence.

With a sigh, Aelin dismounted. She embraced Aedion and kissed Rowan before stepping backwards.

"Give him a black eye before I get back, will you?" She said with a wink at Aedion before getting into the saddle again, and riding swiftly across the grounds and out of the gate.

She looked confident, and held herself surely.

But Aedion could smell her anxiety.

* * *

Aelin rode like hell.

She rode like the Valg princes were on her tail, like Erewan himself was going to spring from behind one of the trees of Oakwood forest. It was like a stab in the heart, leaving that city of light and learning so soon after returning to it. Sure, the palace was in ruins, the gardens were a mess and the walls were crumbling to dust but her palace, her _home_ , was still visible underneath it all.

And she was leaving it behind. Along with Rowan and Aedion.

The nightmares would start again tonight, she was sure of it. For her and for Rowan. A deep ache in her chest, Aelin reached down and gave that bond a tug, just to let him know she was sorry. A minute later, the chain tugged back, and she sighed.

It hurt to leave Aedion, too. Damn him, he'd nearly made her cry, with that lost look on his face. She'd almost wanted to quit this entire escapade and write back to Lysandra, saying she was certain that it was a hoax.

Indeed, the letter she'd received that morning from Lysandra - wearing the skin of a raven - had nearly knocked her out. Lysandra had left instantly, so Aelin had slipped out of bed and headed to the game park to spit fire at the surrounding trees.

And finding Aedion and Rowan beating each other to a pulp had hardly bettered her mood. Still, it was a rather effective form of anger management, she guessed.

Lysandra's letter was tucked up her sleeve, against her skin, written in the newly-appointed lady's elegant, cursive hand. It was short, to the point, and blunt.

 _Aelin._

 _Repairs going well. Ren and Murtaugh well and helping. Evangeline well._

 _Girl arrived yesterday. Black hair. Dirty. Limp. Says name is Elly and she comes from a village near Morath. Took her inside. She had a knife- hurt a guard. No one killed. Says she needs to get to oryth. Says she has message for you. No one else._

 _She had something in her hand. Tried to look- she said she'd kill us all. Didn't want to question._

 _Bring amulet. Just in case._

 _Lysandra._

The amulet of Oryth was stowed away in one of the saddlebags; Aelin didn't want to risk wearing it just yet. And though she was certain that it wasn't anything to worry about, the thought of a strange girl turningup with a message sent shivers down her bones.

 _You're kicking up a fuss over nothing,_ She chided herself.

But she kept riding.

Because she couldn't imagine Lysandra - the girl who had slit Arobynn's throat, who had endured a brutal flogging for Evangeline, who had loved Wesley so completely, so deeply...

She couldn't imagine that girl kicking up a fuss over nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

Manon waited on the roof of the Morath keep, Abraxos warm beneath her. She had switched her usual red cloak in exchange for a black one that concealed her long white braid, and made her near-invisible against the starless night.

The rest of the thirteen had already left, heading for the site they had chosen several days ago. Manon and Asterin were soon to join them, but had stayed behind to collect a certain weak-hearted human.

Asterin was currently in the room below Manon. Vernon Lochan's room.

The human worm needed to be taught that selling off a Blackbeak Witch like property was not an offense to be taken lightly. Just because Elide was free didn't mean his crime would go unpunished.

And all of the thirteen were very happy to participate.

A black hooded head jutted out of the window, looked left and right, and vanished. Moments later, Asterin nimbly perched herself on the sill, Vernon's prone body slung over her shoulder. Using one hand to make sure he didn't fall, she climbed up to Manon as quickly as she could manage. Manon caught a glimpse of a wicked iron smile underneath that hood, and replied with one of her own.

Beautiful, bloodthirsty Asterin reached the roof and nodded at Manon before getting into the saddle, Vernon still unconscious. The extra weight wouldn't be a problem, not with the lack of saddlebags and Abraxos' wonderful strength.

Silent as death, they rose into the sky, and Manon's heart thundered with anticipation.

* * *

The other members of her coven were waiting, their iron nails and teeth already out. Sorrel stood at the front to meet them, and Vesta stood behind, sharpening her nails with a dagger.

Asterin unceremoniously dumped Vernon on the ground and pulled a small bottle of smelling salts from her pocket, waving them under his nose.

The witches laughed as he opened his eyes and cried out at the sight of that feral iron smile.

Manon cast her cloak on the ground, and the others followed suit. They wore no knives or swords, and Vernon's face paled as he saw the thirteen sets of glinting teeth and nails, sharpened and vicious and deadly.

"W-What do you want?" He whispered, scrambling backwards on his hands and feet. They let him. Let him think he had a chance of escape. Pathetic, human fool. The smell of his terror stuffed itself up Manon's nose.

Asterin laughed softly as Manon reached her side. She ran one iron nail down another, and a deadly whine split the air.

"What do you want?" Vernon repeated, hurrying to his feet and raising his hands in front of his face - as if he truly intended to fight them.

Asterin moved.

Her foot connected with his ribs, sending him sprawling sideways, screaming in pain and terror. But he barely had time to draw breath before Vesta's fist slammed into his nose, and Sorrel held him by the collar as Ghislaine slowly drew her nails down his back, leaving four bloody stripes in her wake. She smeared his blood across her face, and the assembled witches roared in approval.

The two shadows ripped open his shoulders. The demon twins attacked his face. Imogen dragged her nails across his ribs, Lin right beside her. Thea and Kaya laughed maniacally as they shredded his hands, their eyes bright with wild ecstasy.

And Asterin launched herself at Vernon, over and over and over again, blood spraying, splattering her golden hair with red, coating her nails and, later, her teeth as Vernon screamed and soiled his pants.

When Manon stepped forward, the others fell back, leaving Vernon on the floor, weeping. Disgusting, weak human worm.

Manon prowled closer, her strides long and unhurried. And nothing in her long, bloodthirsty existence had ever been more satisfying than the sheer terror on Vernon's face as she crouched in front of him and lifted his blood-soaked chin with a single iron nail.

He thrashed wildly in a futile attempt to get away as she grinned at him. Manon let him scream, let him scream and scream and scream until he stopped to draw breath, and then she rested her nails on his chest. Vernon wisely went still.

She brought her mouth close to his ear and whispered, "This is for Elide."

And the punishment began anew.


	5. Chapter 5

Two days after Aelin's departure, it was all Aedion and Rowan could do to stay away from each other's throats.

The fights provided a distraction, and a welcome one too. A distraction from Aelin's absence, the gaping hole she'd left in her wake. No cinders chased her down the hall, no hearth fires flared when she entered a room, no curses echoed through the castle whenever Rowan knocked her flat on her ass during sparring training.

It was too quiet without her. Too empty.

Already, the two warriors were beating the pulp out of each other at every opportunity, terrifying the servants on several occasions. They sparred the night she left, sparred until even Rowan conceded that any more fighting that day would do them more harm than good.

Still, that didn't stop them from fighting the next morning. And noon. And evening. And the morning after that.

Aedion was in Rowan's bathing chamber, splashing water on his face and swearing loud enough for Rowan to hear him, even through the closed door. Rowan had broken his nose with a blow to the face that was far harder than he intended.

The warrior grunted in pain as he healed his shoulder. Aedion had managed to dislocate it, and though he had shoved the joint back into place, some muscle had been ripped. The healing left a deep ache behind.

Aedion, his face damp, walked in. He was shirtless, and countless bruises inflicted by Rowan's well-placed punches marred his chest, though they were already fading. His nose was a deep purple and nearly twice the size it normally was. Rowan gave him a predatory smile.

"Bastard," Aedion growled, dropping onto the bed beside Rowan. "Come on, then. Fix me up."

"I'll have to set it first," Rowan warned.

"Go ahead."

Rowan placed both hands on Aedion's huge nose and _pushed._ There was a sharp crack as the bone snapped into place, and Aedion swore.

"Son of a _bitch_ ," Aedion hissed, bringing a hand up to his face. The bruising was already diminishing, hurried along by Rowan's magic. Aedion's nose slowly reverted to an ordinary size.

"You heal unusually fast for a demi-fae," Rowan remarked, rolling his shoulder to check for any aches.

Aedion went very, very still.

"What do you mean?" He asked sharply.

Rowan shrugged, "It's been an hour at most, and your bruises are almost gone. Just an observation."

"But Gavriel... Gavriel doesn't have that kind of magic, does he?" Aedion asked, going suddenly pale. Rowan pretended not to notice how he flinched when he said his father's name.

"He can heal to a certain extent, like the rest of us. But no, his magic doesn't revolve entirely around healing."

Aedion sagged with relief, loosing a long breath.

"But Aelin's mother - your aunt - _she_ had a water affinity, right?" Rowan asked.

"..Yes." Aedion replied hesitantly.

"It's _possible_ that the magic bypassed your mother and entered your blood instead," Rowan mused, "Your Fae blood might have contributed to that." He turned his head to look at Aedion, and raised an eyebrow, "You look like Death is staring you in the face."

"D-Do I have... magic?" Aedion asked. All the colour had drained from his face. "None of your... games. Just tell me if I have magic."

"I don't know," Rowan conceded, surprised at the raw terror on Aedion's face, "But it's a definite possibility. If you _do_ have magic, you'll need to learn to hone it-"

Aedion rose from the bed and strode out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

* * *

The next morning, Aedion didn't turn up in the garden for their usual session of brutal fighting.

Rowan was wise enough not to push it. Instead, he embedded daggers of ice in the surrounding trees, missing Aelin and hating himself for letting her go.

* * *

Aedion stared at his palms as if the answers to all his questions lay there.

Could these hands, these scarred, tanned hands... could they hold rippling water just as Aelin could hold roiling flame? Could they control healing just as Rowan commanded ice?

Could he have magic?

He had never shown any signs of magic during those early years before it fell. He'd never had... episodes like Aelin's. She had incinerated tapestries and burned books and turned tables and chairs to mere cinders whenever she was frightened or upset. Aedion had never had incidents like that.

But...

But Rhoe and his men had _known_ that Gavriel was his father. They had known, and drilled control into his blood from the moment he could walk. Control, control, control. Control that volatile temper. Control that Fae territoriality. Control that deep-set urge to protect, and raze the world to the ground if need be.

And his mother had died to keep his heritage a secret from Maeve.

A bolt of terror rushed into him, pure and undiluted. Aelin had told him about the vision she'd shown Maeve - did that mean she was able to pry into other's minds? Had she rummaged through Gavriel's memories and found the ones about his mother who looked so strikingly similar to Aelin herself? Even if she suspected, Gavriel would have to confess if Maeve demanded it. The blood oath left no room for free will.

Breathing became difficult, and he buried his head in his hands, trying to calm himself. But it didn't work.

And now that Maeve had seen Aelin in the flesh... would she have made the connection?

And if she had... would she come to the same conclusion that Rowan had? Maeve wanted the wyrdkeys, that much was clear. And Aelin had one, hidden inside the amulet of Orynth. But if interrogated, Aedion would hold that secret until his last breath.

But maybe Maeve wasn't interested in interrogation. Maybe she wanted Aedion for ransom. Or perhaps she'd find some way to trick him into swearing himself to her. Aedion wasn't ready to put anything past that bitch.

It would be an act of war for Maeve to try and capture him.

But Aedion knew, deep in his bones, and Maeve wouldn't give a damn about war. The only thing she cared about was _power_ , and the lengths she would go to to obtain it.


	6. Chapter 6

Lysandra paced her room anxiously, wringing her hands as rain lashed the windows outside. Evangeline was downstairs, taking her usual reading and writing lessons with Ren. The two of them had taken to each other right away, perhaps because of their twin formidable tempers, and Ren doted on the new heir to Allsbrook. To Lysandra's surprise, he hadn't resented her in the slightest for essentially stealing his title. In fact, when she cornered him once in the hallway and offered the ghost leopard seal ring, he had told her that he never really wanted it anyway.

Whether he wanted it or not, he would still have made an excellent Lord. In the first few days since Lysandra had made her way to the new home, half mad with nerves, he had gently guided her through what was expected and what the people needed.

It had pleased her immensely when he told her that the people didn't need a pretty little figurehead. They needed someone to protect them. And with that blessing from Temis, God of wild things, thrumming in her veins... Lysandra felt like she was home at long last.

Still. Aelin couldn't get here fast enough, in her opinion.

There was a dungeon underneath the handsome manor house, but Lysandra would never, ever be tempted to use it. Not in a million years. Not after the tiny punishment room in Clarisse's home. Not after the scars that littered Aelin's body and the vacant look that sometimes entered her eyes. So the girl - Elly - was being held in one of the guest rooms, with vigilant guards at the door and under the balcony.

She'd gone half feral when they tried to help her up. Screaming threats and insults, brandishing a knife in each hand. It was evident she wasn't particularly skilled at using them but nonetheless, Danton was still in the infirmary with a deep slice in his arm.

The girl threatened to throttle anyone that entered her room, but what with her ruined ankle, she couldn't bring herself to refuse the healer. The last time Lysandra checked up on her, standing in the doorway, flanked by two guards, the swelling had gone down and Elly was standing on her own two feet, only listing very slightly to one side.

Ren kept insisting that there was something achingly familiar about the girl, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. Lysandra had no idea - perhaps she was a survivor of the war. But if she came from a village near Morath, then it was most likely she was Adarlanian. Definitely not Eyllwe. Her skin had an almost disturbing paleness to it, as if she'd spent half her life underground.

A gentle knock at the door woke Lysandra from her brooding.

"Yes?" She asked, straightening her spine.

A guard opened the door and inclined his head. No bows. That had been the first rule she set upon her arrival.

"Lysandra,"

No titles, either.

"Princess Aelin has arrived. She's downstairs."

She couldn't cross the room fast enough. In just two long strides, Lysandra was pushing past the guard and hurtling down the stairs, jumping the last five and racing for the front door. Aelin turned at the last second and let out an _oomph_ as Lysandra collided with her, wrapping her arms around Aelin's neck.

"Good morning to you, too." She said wryly, hugging Lysandra back. Her sodden sleeves dampened the back of Lysandra's shirt.

"What took you so long?!" Lysandra spluttered. It had been five days since she flew to Orynth with the letter in her beak.

"I ran into a few ghost leopards in Oakwald, and thought I'd take the long way round. Just in case." Aelin drew back and squeezed out her sopping wet hair with a hand. "Is the girl still here?"

"Oh - yes." Lysandra had almost forgotten what, exactly, she'd contacted Aelin about.

At that exact moment, the door to the left opened, and Evangeline's auburn head peered out. She grinned wildly at the sight of Aelin and flung the door open, running forward to hug her around the torso. Aelin laughed lightly and hugged her back.

Evangeline was ecstatic at Aelin's presence, and took her by the hand, pulling her into the side room to show her the progress she'd made with her lessons. Lysandra opened her mouth, but Aelin expertly extricated herself from Evangeline's grasp and said she would _love_ to see how she was doing, but Lysandra had to show her something.

Evangeline groaned emphatically, "Why are you two so bad at telling me things?"

Aelin and Lysandra burst out laughing.

* * *

Lysandra led the way to the girl's room, filling Aelin in on the details as they walked.

"She won't talk to anyone. She'll let the healer in for her leg, but she still doesn't say anything then, either. I think the only times she's opened her mouth is to make threats."

"My kind of girl," Aelin said quietly, and Lysandra snorted, but there was little humour behind it.

"She's got something in her hand," she continued, "But there's no way in Hell she's going to show it to us. And she had two knives when we found her. We found a third one in her boot."

Aelin let out a murmur of understanding, her brow furrowing as she thought.

"Where did she say she lived?"

"A village near Morath."

"Maybe she knows something."

"Maybe."

They paused in front of the door, and Lysandra nodded to the guards, grasping the handle of the door and stepping aside as it swung open.

"What do you want?" The girl demanded. She was sitting in the armchair by the window, and her eyes gleamed with ire as she stared at the two of them standing in the doorway. But her anger vanished as soon as she laid eyes on Aelin, and the water rolling off her golden hair.

"Enjoy," Lysandra said with a smirk as she stepped out, shutting the door behind her.

Aelin could only stare.

" _Elide?"_ she whispered in awe.


	7. Author's note

**Hey guys!**

 **Since I've managed to get my hands on Empire of Storms (and read it several times... I keep crying) I'll be discontinuing this story from now on, since I already know what happens.**

 **Soul of Fire is another fanfic I've just put up, and is set after the end of EoS (because I need some closure from that heartbreaking ending - I'm not gonna wait a year!) So if you want to check that out, go ahead!**

 **I hope you guys like the new story, sorry for stopping this one. And, as always, thanks for taking to time to read my writing.**

 **Adios**

 **:)**


End file.
